


Bella Notte

by captainskellington



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, gratuitous disney references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainskellington/pseuds/captainskellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"No," Courfeyrac said, pointing his fork aggressively at Grantaire, who was sitting opposite him and grinning mischievously. "No way is Spanish food better than Italian."</em> </p><p>Les Amis at a restaurant, somebody orders spaghetti, the title is a Disney reference...<br/>It's exactly what you're expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella Notte

"No," Courfeyrac said, pointing his fork aggressively at Grantaire, who was sitting opposite him and grinning mischievously. "No way is Spanish food better than Italian."

"I'm just saying it as it is, man.  _Nuestra comida es infinitimante superior, primo,_ " Grantaire replied with a wink, breaking a bread roll and flicking crumbs at him.

"Heathen. We have pizza, we have  _ice cream_ , your cuisine is evidently the inferior, fuck you," belatedly realising what he was doing with his fork he put it down safely on the table, then returned to glaring at his adversary.

"The fact that you just used the word  _cuisine,_  I think, alludes to the ingrained and totally correct implication that French cuisine is vastly superior to all other European foods," Enjolras said with a distracted smirk as he tried to follow Cosette's instructions in folding his napkin into an origami swan, glancing frustratedly at Feuilly's perfectly folded replica to his side.

They were trying out a new restaurant in town post-meeting, Bahorel knowing the owners from high school and securing a booking despite the popularity of the establishment in its weeks since opening. It boasted an incredibly varied menu with dishes from literally all around the world, and having such a varied group of people nationality-wise had inevitably devolved into a highly childish "my food's better than yours" match between them.

"Actually," Combeferre pitched in from Courfeyrac's side. "The root of the word 'cuisine' is Latin, and therefore you're presenting an invalid argument against the Italian, Enjolras."

Courfeyrac grinned at him, a familiar warmth fluttering in his chest when his friend backed him up. "I knew I could count on you," he said, clapping him playfully on the shoulder. Combeferre gave him a crooked smile that was just a little too adorable for Courfeyrac to handle.

Grantaire nudged him in the shin with his boot under the table and subtly raised his eyebrows when Courfeyrac looked over at him. Courfeyrac valiantly fought back a blush and glared at him, which only made Grantaire laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Jehan, pausing in his quest of attempting to decipher the other languages on the menu without checking the English translations. 

"Enjolras' attempts at art," Grantaire said without skipping a beat, averting his eyes from Courfeyrac and shaking his head fondly at the sorry state of his boyfriend's napkin. "You're lucky you're pretty."

"Hey," Enjolras made an offended noise and threw the napkin at him in return.

"You love me," said Grantaire, leaning against his side and returning his gaze pointedly to Courfeyrac, glancing at Combeferre and back to him as he spoke. Courfeyrac turned a little pink around the edges.

"Occasionally," Enjolras grumbled, but he wrapped an arm around Grantaire regardless.

Courfeyrac felt his face heat up and he sneaked a glance at Combeferre, feeling the same familiar adrenaline rush he got whenever he considered confronting his feelings and just speaking to his friend about them and being  _done_ with it rather than chickening out and calling Grantaire to pine after the fact.

But Combeferre was distracted as Cosette spoke up. "Look, kids, we all know who's the real winner here, because Korean food is  _the shit_ , and now shut up and get excited because I can see our meals coming."

"Telling us to shut up  _and_ get excited is relatively counter-productive considering we as a unit are fairly incapable of shutting up even when we  _aren't_ excited..." muttered Joly, but he was too busy staring longingly at the approaching trays to put any real effort behind being heard.

Suddenly, as plates were being placed on the surface of the table all around them, one of the waitresses tripped on the bag of somebody at a neighbouring table and nearly went up on her neck. Bossuet, quick as a flash, darted to his feet and caught her with a hand around her wrist. He saved her from falling with a neat tug, but unfortunately that meant him getting covered in the dish she was in the process of ferrying to their table.

The waitress was babbling a mixture of thanks and apologies as the group burst into applause for Bossuet's fast save. Bossuet laughed it off, releasing her to bow for his friends as a plate's worth of noodles and sauce slowly dripped onto the floor, explaining (utterly truthfully) that he'd had much worse, ma'am, don't worry about it.

"I believe," Combeferre said quietly, leaning towards Courfeyrac with barely concealed amusement in his voice as the waitress headed off to refresh the order with a glare towards the offending bag strap that had tripped her. "That Bossuet is currently wearing my dinner."

"Oh my god," snickered Courfeyrac, ignoring the thrill that ran through him when Combeferre lowered his voice. "Well, you're welcome to share mine til yours gets here."

Combeferre widened his eyes and gasped dramatically as Courfeyrac's plate was set down in front of him. "You'd deign to share your beloved Italian cuisine with  _me,_  a common Frenchman?"

Courfeyrac laughed and shoved the plate between them. "Only if you share whatever the hell that was with me," he said, watching as Joly stood up with a replacement shirt in hand (god bless Bossuet's bad luck, his boyfriend was always prepared for every eventuality) and he led the grinning man to the bathrooms to change.

Courfeyrac shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and motioned for Combeferre to do the same, smiling when he hesitantly did so. After a moment, Combeferre frowned.

"Spaghetti? Weren't you going gluten-free?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned, and if that didn't just  _melt Courfeyrac's heart_ that he'd even  _noticed_.

"I was," Courfeyrac said, genuinely touched that Combeferre had realised. "But the doc got back to me and apparently I just wasn't getting enough iron. Thought I'd better leave the glutenless stuff to the people who really needed it."

Combeferre's face smoothed out and he smiled and shrugged as if to say "fair enough." Then, quite childishly, he sucked up a strand of spaghetti and flinched in surprise when it smacked across his face, leaving a trail of bolognese sauce dotted across his glasses. Courfeyrac nearly choked on his drink from sudden laughter.

After a while, the conversation around the table grew more broken off into groups and Courfeyrac found himself eating distractedly, watching in awe as Grantaire and Bahorel decided to have a competition to see who could fit more breadsticks into their mouth.

"This is gross, why am I dating you," Enjolras said half-heartedly, but he was every bit as fascinated as Courfeyrac as the two continued cheerily in nearly choking themselves.

The competition came to an abrupt halt when Eponine breezily commented "You two must give great head," and they both nearly inhaled the breadsticks and subsequently spent the next minute choking them out.

Courfeyrac didn't miss Enjolras subtly nodding at Eponine across the table, although he really could have gone without knowing that about Grantaire.

As such, he was inelegantly drawing spaghetti into his mouth with his lips with a despairing look at Enjolras, vaguely aware of Bahorel's coughs trailing off into laughter, when it happened.

The spaghetti snagged on something and Courfeyrac turned his head, a frown waiting ready on his brow, only to feel his face go completely slack as he found himself mouth to mouth with Combeferre.

Combeferre's expression would have been almost comical had Courfeyrac not been certain he was wearing the exact same one; shock, surprise, and something else that Courfeyrac couldn't quite get a read on before Combeferre bit off the strand of pasta and jerked his head back to put some distance between them.

A blush rose high on Combeferre's cheeks as his mouth worked, trying to think of something to say. Combeferre could feel the heat on his own face, that and the delighted shiver that ran through his veins at what had just occurred.

 _Did that count as a kiss?_  Courfeyrac pushed the thought out of his head, eyes still locked on Combeferre's, when Bahorel spoke.

"Hey, Combeferre, you've got something on your face..." Bahorel snickered as he raised a hand to his mouth. "Oh wait, my bad, it's just Courfeyrac."

Laughter blossomed around the table as they both looked away, blushing furiously. Courfeyrac could barely meet anybody's eyes; only Grantaire -- and oddly, Enjolras -- looked sympathetic.

Luckily, it was then that the same waitress from before appeared with Combeferre's own food, apologising again for the delay and inconvenience.

Some part of Courfeyrac's reeling, lovesick brain noted distantly that she was looking appreciatively between Joly and Bossuet, who were talking privately amongst themselves. Joly looked up after a moment, realised they were being watched, and smiled warmly at her.

Courfeyrac was distracted again as Combeferre nudged the back of his hand. "Dig in," he said, nodding at the plate with his cheeks still stained pink.

It was peculiar seeing Combeferre like this; even Courfeyrac had rarely seen him be anything but collected.

Distantly aware that he was still hungry, Courfeyrac did as he was told. Combeferre's choice was something Asian with egg noodles and a varied assortment of seafood and vegetables.

Courfeyrac kept carefully to his own side of the dish this time, spearing a prawn and watching Combeferre out of the corner of his eye.

Along the table, Jehan broke into an impassioned speech about the importance of the arts in education, carrying on from the theme of the earlier meeting. His words were met with noises of agreement from his friends, and when he finished his meal he left his seat and headed to the other end to speak to Feuilly about something.

Cosette was patiently walking Marius through the Korean alphabet, which he was grasping frightfully quickly, peering down at a menu and carefully sounding out the marks.

Eponine, Feuilly and Bahorel were picking and mixing between their plates of food, Eponine having ordered a plate of sliders, Feuilly a rack of pork ribs and Bahorel a mixed platter of exotic meats.

Joly was fussing around Bossuet, making sure he didn't spill anything else on his new shirt -- "You've already managed to wreck two this week, we need to get you a bubble or something to roll around in" -- and Bossuet was trying to get him to shut up by stuffing French fries in his mouth.

Enjolras was sneakily flicking his mushrooms onto Grantaire's plate when he wasn't looking, but as soon as he looked away Grantaire was shooting him fond looks before helping himself to the mushrooms, shaking his head slightly as if to say "moron".

So nobody was really paying attention when Combeferre, already leaning in close to Courfeyrac share their plate, hesitantly reached down and took his hand underneath the table.

Courfeyrac froze, nearly dropping his fork, and met Combeferre's eyes. Combeferre smiled tentatively, almost shyly, and Courfeyrac shifted his hand to lace their fingers together with a slight smile of his own.

After a moment they went back to their food, and Courfeyrac's mind was racing, focused acutely on the warm hand clasping his.  _It's nothing_ , he tried to calm himself, hoping his hand wasn't getting sweaty. They'd held hands before, it didn't mean anything.

But after that, earlier? 

Combeferre hadn't looked mortified, like Courfeyrac had expected him to. He hadn't even gone far when he'd pulled back, barely even looked embarrassed. 

_Maybe..._

He blinked when he realised Enjolras had spoken to him. A flicker of amusement passed over his face and then soothed out again. "Dessert?" Enjolras repeated. Grantaire muttered something into his ear and he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Courfeyrac shook his head.

"Right, well, I'll go get the bill," Bossuet and Joly said in unison, both standing and heading towards the waitress from earlier.

"Go get her, boys," Bahorel said, sounding half amused, half impressed.

They returned moments later (Joly slipping a piece of paper into his pocket with a rather smug expression, him and Bossuet both) and they paid the bill as a group, Enjolras and Grantaire bickering over whose turn it was to pay -- "You paid last time, it's my-" "No, you brought home takeout, that counts, don't try to slide that one past me." -- before they all shrugged on their jackets and filed out onto the street. 

But not, it should be noted, without first leaving a generous tip for their waitress.

Courfeyrac was at a loss without Combeferre's hand, and he jumped when an arm was flung around his shoulder. 

Grantaire steered him onto the sidewalk with a grin, following behind the others as they headed back to Feuilly and Bahorel's for an impromptu movie night -- which was apparently decided when Courfeyrac was staring off into space at the dinner table.

"So," he said, breath hanging in the cold night air. "I reckon Combeferre's more of a Lady... I guess that makes you Tramp?"

Enjolras and Combeferre, at the back of the main group, turned to look as Grantaire let out an alarmed yelp, having been cuffed around the head by Courfeyrac seconds earlier.

Grantaire darted forward to Enjolras' side and cried, "He's bullying me!" to which Enjolras replied by hitting him gently around the head himself and saying, "You probably deserved it. Come on."

Combeferre had stopped to wait for Courfeyrac to catch up while this was going on, letting Enjolras and Grantaire go on ahead. When Courfeyrac glanced at them they were looking back over their shoulders at him. Enjolras gave him an encouraging smile and Grantaire winked before they turned and walked on.

"Hi," Combeferre said when he caught up, giving him another one of his crooked smiles. He almost looked nervous.

"Hey," Courfeyrac said, at a loss. They trailed after the others, Courfeyrac having to physically restrain himself from reaching out to take the other man's hand again.

Combeferre took a deep breath as though readying himself for something, then spoke. "So, about earlier..."

"Yeah?" Courfeyrac could already feel the disappointment welling up inside him, just waiting for Combeferre to say it was a mistake, he was sorry, it wouldn't happen again, any combination of the sort.

"The thing with the, uh... The spaghetti..."

Courfeyrac frowned. This was incredibly out of character for him. Combeferre didn't get flustered, and yet he was definitely not as calm and collected as he seemed to be 99% of the time. And then... He was blushing again.

He stopped walking, and Courfeyrac stopped with him. He made a frustrated noise and opened his mouth, shut it again, reached for Courfeyrac, then let his hand drop.

"Are you okay?" Courfeyrac stepped towards him, concerned, feelings be damned.

Combeferre reached out and took his hand, slowly, as if expecting Courfeyrac to bolt suddenly. "Yes, I am, I am okay," he said, suddenly releasing breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Never better, actually. But I would be... More okay, I think, if..." He blinked nervously. "Can I kiss you? Again? Or-- or did that last one count, was that a kiss, or should I just say, um-- can you say something? Please? Because I don't know what I'm saying you know I'm not good with this sort of thing, Courfeyrac."

"You're rambling," said Courfeyrac, in awe. Very few things in the universe could make Combeferre ramble with nerves, and now he was one of them. "That's adorable."

With that, he stood on his tiptoes and kissed him. 

Combeferre let out a surprised noise, not quite a squeak, as though he hadn't been expecting Courfeyrac to actually do it. He relaxed after a moment, putting his hands on Courfeyrac's waist and all but melting into the kiss.

Courfeyrac was dizzy. Combeferre was so warm and familiar and he'd wanted him for so long, he'd needed him even longer, and every single movement and press of his lips against Courfeyrac's just felt right and  _safe_ and Combeferre huffed a warm laugh when Courfeyrac grinned into the kiss.

"What?" said Combeferre, a grin playing at his own lips.

"Nothing," Courfeyrac replied, drawing him close and taking his hand again. "Come on, we better catch up with the others."

Combeferre snorted, but complied. "Enjolras will have told them what's happening, we can take our time."

"Enjolras?" asked Courfeyrac, and suddenly things began clicking into place. " _Oh_ , you spoke to _him_... I went to Grantaire. They knew, they'll have told each other; they both knew and said nothing..."

Combeferre laughed again, and Courfeyrac's entire being felt lighter at the beautiful sound. "Would it have _killed_ them to just tell us it was reciprocated?"

Courfeyrac shook his head. "You know, Grantaire's started referring to us as Lady and Tramp."

It took a moment for it to click but then Combeferre grinned. "I sure as hell better be Lady," he said.

"I resent being given the name Tramp."

"Does this sweeten the deal any?" Combeferre tugged him close and kissed him again.

"Yeah," Courfeyrac said, blushing, voice an octave or two higher than usual. "That'll do it."

Combeferre wrapped his arm around Courfeyrac's waist with a smile, and together they followed their friends down the long-vacated path before them.

In the distance, they could just make out the dulcet tones of Bahorel and Grantaire serenading them home.

 

_"Oh this is the night,_

_It's a beautiful night,_

  
_And we call it bella notte!"_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a silly headcanon to cheer up actual real life Combeferre [Charlie](http://twitter.com/combefright) and then it kind of snowballed...  
> Bella Notte is the song during the spaghetti scene in Lady & the Tramp, in case you couldn't remember.  
> Shoutout to [Summer](http://twitter.com/reichenbaker) for checking the Spanish at the start... If you were unsure, I was making Courfeyrac Italian, Enjolras and Combeferre are French, Grantaire is Spanish, and Cosette is Korean, all of them first or second generation? Maybe? Feuilly, Bahorel, Eponine, Joly and Bossuet are whatever you want them to be, and they all live in the giant melting pot that is New York City... Or something...  
> Also yes, the waitress is Musichetta. As if you're surprised.  
> As always, no, I really don't know what I'm doing.
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr at [cityelf](http://cityelf.tumblr.com), because it looks like that username is here to stay!


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